


First Time: Lets Do This Again

by Justanothershortstory_sofar



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Critical Role Femslash Week, F/F, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, HAROLD THEY'RE LESBIANS, Oral Sex, a Very Poor Attempt at Smut, cr femslash week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17452445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justanothershortstory_sofar/pseuds/Justanothershortstory_sofar
Summary: Beau's not the sentimental type.  Not usually, at least.  For day two of CR femslash week (First Kiss/Canon Lesbian)





	First Time: Lets Do This Again

**i.**

Beau’s first kiss doesn’t count, not really.  There was nothing special about a twelve-year-old boy kissing a twelve-year-old Beau in the woods outside her house on that fall day.  She knew it should have felt romantic, wasn’t that what a first kiss was supposed to be? Wasn’t she supposed to feel like her heart was singing or like she couldn’t stop dancing?  Why didn’t she? 

 

What was wrong with her?

 

There was something special about the way she wiped her lips off and shuddered after it happened.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t nice, or forced it. Boys were just… gross. 

 

Her mom told her this would pass, and that someday she’d find a boy she’d like to kiss.  Sorry, mom. 

 

There was something special about how she felt when she found herself, later.  

  
**ii.**

Her second kiss was the first one she counted.  She was sixteen, dopey, awkward as hell. She kissed a girl behind the Monastery of the Cobalt Soul and felt a connection deeper and more intense than the ones the Monks wanted her to feel to Ioun or to dusty books she didn’t want to read.  

And the girl, oh this girl.  Years later, and Beau thinks she gave part of her soul to her that summer afternoon, and the summer afternoons and early evenings and late nights spent behind the monastery, in the village, tending the gardens.  

 

They were gentle, soft.  Pinkies touching lightly around the same flower bush.  

 

Oh, and they were intense, burning with a white-hot fire as Beau ran her hands down every inch of her body,  pressing them inside her. She remembers the taste of the sweat on her skin when she kissed that holy space between belly button and crotch and labia.  

Beau learned that summer, about anatomy and love and what it felt to have a finger prodding and calling to you from inside her and to keep her fingernails short.  She learned she was whole, she wasn’t broken for having no love for men. 

 

And Beau felt her heart break, when she left, leaving her seeing the spaces they used to occupy together.  

 

**iii.**

She had adventures, sexual and romantic before her time began with the Mighty Nein.  She’d paid for company, found pleasure in a drunken evening, and courted a woman more than once.  

 

Beau had thought that Yasha would be it, or at least next.  But then Yasha was gone- missions for the Stormlord, or Lorenzo and his ilk.  

 

Keg was a whole other animal, abrasive against her like a whetstone was to a blade, sandpaper to wood.  This was true in bed, in combat, in conversation. 

 

There was a ferocity and a necessity to their sex.  Like they prepared for a fight, Keg removed her armor with speed, dumping it unceremoniously onto the floor.  Beau helped, pulling Keg’s shirt over her head, kissing her collarbone. Beau’s hips pressed against Keg, pinning her to the wall.     Her lips traced down Keg’s chest as she leaned down, between her breasts and down again to that holy space she had entered before. 

Beau’s hands rested on Keg’s hips, her mouth moving lower as Keg groaned, pressed against the wall of the room they had claimed for the night.  

 

Keg had a taste, one Beau could still call to memory, like the shudders and gasps that escaped her mouth as Beau brought her to climax.  Almost metallic, Beau wondered if wearing armor almost all the time could make you taste differently. 

 

“Oh, fuck,”  She had said, wiping her brow.  Beau laughed, leaning back. “Your turn now.”

 

This time, they made it to the bed first, Keg pulling and untying Beau’s belt.  Her hands traced down Beau’s abdomen, slipping underneath her waistband. Keg’s kisses, rough from faint stubble along her jaw, rubbed her raw wherever they landed.  

 

Stubble was a highly underrated factor in a kiss, Beau thought.  She should fuck more dwarf women, beards were hot. 

 

Keg’s hand felt around, finding its way to her vagina.  One, then another, then a third finger enters her, pulling Beau to Keg, tracing her way through the alphabet on her clit. She saw stars as Keg brought her to orgasm. 

“You had to… outperform me, didn’t you?”  Beau pants, wiping sweat from her brow. 

Exhausted, she fell asleep against the smaller woman, Keg half on top of her.  

 

In the morning, Keg snuck away, armor clanking against itself.  Beau didn’t feel the need to hold onto her as she had with earlier encounters, with her first love, first kiss.   This time, Beau felt secure in letting her go. 

 

They would meet again, if fate allowed it.  

 

**iv.**

From the moment she saw Yasha, she knew.  

Yasha would be the last woman in Beau’s life.  Yasha was it, the one she was waiting for. 

 

This is not to say that it was perfect, a fairytale ending, because why would Beau get one of those.  Both of them carried more baggage than expected, both of them with reservations. 

 

Caution is how they began, in direct contrast to the urgency that began most of Beau’s encounters.  Quietly, they disrobed, stealing careful looks at one another from opposite sides of the bed. 

 

Beau sits on the bed, legs tucked underneath her.  She was laid bare before Yasha, all her imperfections before her.  Beau could see the flaws in herself, but so could Yasha, and Yasha didn’t seem to care. 

“Hi.”  

 

Yasha mirrors her, curling around herself onto the bed.  Her hair, black fading to white, hangs around her perfect breasts, round and shining in silver moonlight.  

“Hi.”

 

Beau touches her lightly, running her fingertips along Yasha’s arms.     
“Those arms are worth a lot of gold,”  

With that, it’s like a dam has broken, a barrier has shattered, and Beau begins to fuck.  

Yasha was a whirlwind around her, like nothing before.  She moved like she did on the battlefield, with confidence and ferocity and a need, gods, this need for Beau like Beau needed Yasha.    Her hands gracefully caressed Beau, running down her back, cupping her ass, and sliding into the honeyed sweet spot between her legs. Her tongue traversed the corners of her neck, her jaw, teeth bit her ear and her shoulder.  Air escaped both their lips in shaking gasps and racketing sighs. She could feel her body bruise from the force Yasha had on her, like the supernova from a star colliding with another. It felt good, so good. She can remember every place on her body Yasha has touched, every caress, every kiss, every bite, every fuck.  

Yasha was in her mouth, in her lungs, her hands inside her, her soul her fate her hands her soul her taste her hands her soul–

OH, Ioun!  OH, whatever god may be listening, 

 

How did she

  
How could she,

 

Ever even THINK she was broken,

 

This, this,  Yasha all around her, inside her, 

 

Was something Holy.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading an attempt at smut. I like, love Beau and Yasha so fucking much it might be a problem. 
> 
> XOXO,  
> Just (zoetriestobecoolbutnope on tumblr)


End file.
